


Working Magic

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Prowl x Jazz Hallowe'en Challenge 2019 [4]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers – All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe – Supernatural, Books, Brief Discussion of the Creepiness of Love Spells, Codes & Ciphers, Community: trope_bingo, Community: whatif-au, Consensual Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Developing Relationship, Discussion of demons, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Falling In Love, Family, First Time, Grimoires/Magical Texts, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Making Out, Meeting the Family, Overloads (Transformers), Seal Removal, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug 'n Play Sexual Interfacing, Translation, Walking in on people, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 15:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Jazz brings Prowl a book of magic that belonged to his mentor's mentor to see if Prowl can help decode it. Prowl is far more interested in the magic he and Jazz can work when Prowl's creator and sibling are away for the weekend and he and Jazz have the house to themselves.Takes place afterReplay,Ghost Stories, andHomework.





	Working Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [The Prowl x Jazz Community](https://prowlxjazz.dreamwidth.org)'s [Halloween Bingo 2019](https://prowlxjazz.dreamwidth.org/1745822.html#comments) on [Dreamwidth](https://prowlxjazz.dreamwidth.org) and used for [Trope Bingo](https://www.trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 13](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TropeBingo_RoundThirteen/profile) (Prompt: Language/Translation), the [What If? AU Challenge's](https://whatif-au.dreamwidth.org) October 2019 [Supernatural AU challenge](https://whatif-au.dreamwidth.org/tag/challenge31), and the [Spooktober Challenge (Prompt: magic).](https://spooktoberchallenge.dreamwidth.org/732.html)

Half-step had told Jazz he was coming in two cycles but hadn't given him a time of arrival. Since Jazz had mentioned his mentor liked late nights and wasn't a morning mech, Prowl hadn't expected to be interrupted in the middle of the morning while he was busy working Jazz up to a truly impressive tactile overload.

They broke apart when the door opened, and a cheerful voice shouted out Jazz's name. They weren't entirely separate by the time a mech that could only be Half-step burst into the living room, and it was undeniable what they had been doing, even if all their ports were still covered. Caught or not, Prowl still untangled himself from Jazz and tried to sit up properly.

"Sorry, Jazzie, Prowl," Half-step said. "Didn't realize you were both in here."

"Hey, 'Step," Jazz said. "Didn't expect you so early."

"I can see that. Nice to meet you, Prowl. Jazz talks about you a lot. I'm gonna drop my kit in the music room, and then I'll come back, and you can introduce me proper-like, okay?" He vanished into the depths of the house.

"So," Jazz said, glancing over at Prowl, "that's my mentor."

"So I guessed. He's…" Prowl fumbled for words, a rare occurrence for him.

Jazz just chuckled. "Yeah, he is. Don't feel awkward around 'Step, though. He just takes people as they are."

"Yeah, I'm pretty groovy with everyone," Half-step said, reappearing and settling into a chair. "Besides, Jazz likes you, that's good enough for me. Anyway, you seem like a nice kid. I get feelings about people, y'know. And, thanks for helping Jazz out with the" Half-step gestured vaguely toward the attic, where Prowl and Jazz had once found a corpse hidden. "I didn't know the place was supposed to be haunted, really. Jazz knows I know better than to mess around with that stuff."

"Yeah," Jazz agreed. "'Step's how I knew about the legend of _Censere's Cauldron_."

_Censere's Cauldron _was an allegedly cursed play that would, were certain scenes not excluded and lost, result in the inexplicable deaths of the audience and the disappearance of the actors. If the legend were true, of course. The play was also considered to be bad luck and should not be called by name in any theatre where a performance was running lest something terrible happen.

"Oh yeah? Who's putting on the Hyperian play?" Half-step asked, using the name given to _Censere's Cauldron _by those who did not want to bring misfortune upon theatre productions.

"My younger sibling's school," Prowl replied. "Each class has a single scene to perform."

"Oh, cool. Curse aside, the blocking makes that actually a pretty good intro to theatre for kids. Did Jazz tell your sibling what to do to counter it if someone accidentally says the play's name?' Half-step asked, sprawling in his chair.

"No?" Prowl didn't particularly believe in cursed plays – ghosts he at least had empirical evidence for – and therefore didn't particularly believe in methods of countering curses either.

"Jazz, c'mon, you can't give 'em the legend and not tell 'em how to counter the bad luck," Half-step said in a reasonable tone of voice. "Anyway. Tell him that if someone accidentally says the play's name while a performance is running, they've gotta go outside – voluntarily or not - turn around three times counterclockwise, spit, then knock three times and ask to come back in. Takes the luck out with you and unwinds it, you see."

Prowl didn't, but it was the sort of thing that would interest Bluestreak. "I'll let him know."

Though perhaps not the 'voluntarily or not' part. He didn't need their Creator getting calls from the school about practical jokes gone wrong. Even if Bluestreak wasn't the practical joke type, it would be all too easy for the word to get to audials of adolescents who were.

Prowl left shortly after that, saying he wanted to give Jazz some time to catch up with his mentor. It was true, and besides, Prowl had to look after Bluestreak between the time he got back from school and the time their creator got home from work. Bluestreak was a new adolescent and didn't need too much minding, but he did need someone in range just in case.

"Sorry about the interruption," Jazz murmured as they said good-bye at the door. "I really wasn't expecting him here so soon. Hope we can pick it up again later, though?"

"Of course," Prowl promised, not wanting to let Jazz go. "In fact, Creator works till midnight this weekend, and Bluestreak is spending it at Trailbreaker's house. Perhaps you could spend the night again?"

They had spent the night together twice so far. The first time they'd just learned that Jazz's house was haunted. They'd been too spooked to sleep, and Prowl hadn't particularly wanted to leave Jazz alone anyway. They'd spent the night in the music room at the keyboard instead, Jazz teaching Prowl how to play. The second night Prowl's creator had been out, and Prowl hadn't wanted to get too involved in anything because it hadn't felt right when he was meant to be looking after his sibling. But spending the night with Jazz spooned up against his back had felt right, very right. Prowl wanted that again

Jazz smiled. "Love to, beautiful."

Prowl kissed him, doing his best to make it full of promise, and reluctantly left. Jazz watched him walk across the street, enter his house, and turn in the doorway to look back at Jazz. Even at a distance, Jazz recognized the little duck of his head that meant he was smiling. Then Prowl disappeared inside, and Jazz went to find his mentor.

Half-step was in the kitchen, getting himself some energon and liberally spicing it with arsenic. He turned to look at Jazz.

"Sorry about interrupting you and your sweetspark," Half-step said, automatically pouring a cube for Jazz too. "I would've knocked, but it is my house."

"Yeah, but it's mine too, and some warning would've been nice," Jazz said pointedly.

"Well, it ain't like you never walked in on me."

"That was _once_."

Half-step grinned. "Not if you count everyone involved." Then he sobered. "You're really serious about him, aren't you, Jazz?"

"I think – " Jazz hesitated only to put his thoughts together. Half-step knew him too well for him to even think about trying to bluff here. "I think I could be, yeah. I think – I hope – he wants to be."

"But he's leaving at the end of the summer."

"Yeah. But there's always comms, and holiday visits, and I might pick up a few gigs in Praxus, so…"

"You want to be in Praxus, you know I'll help you out."

Half-step had been a performer for a long time, and he had contacts all over Cybertron. Jazz didn't doubt his mentor could help him find work in Praxus. But…

"Even if you just bought the house here?" Jazz asked. "I mean, you wanted me to live here with you."

Half-step nodded. "Yeah. I still do, and you know you'll always be welcome wherever I am. But you've got your own life to live, kiddo, and I'd be doing a bad job if I didn't let you go do that. Not the way to treat someone you love, right? So. Praxus?"

Jazz smiled, glad and not for the first time Half-step had been picked to be his mentor. "Yeah. I'll be sure by the end of summer, but – I think I'd like that, Mentor, thanks."

Half-step gave him a quick, one-armed hug. "No problem, Jazzie. Now c'mon: you can talk to me while I unpack."

Jazz hadn't done much with Half-step's belongings, other than what belonged in the music room. He'd just put all the boxes marked 'Half-step' or 'mentor' into the mech's room till their owner got there. Jazz sat cross-legged on the end of Half-step's bed and chatted with him while he unpacked. Well, anyway, Jazz talked about Prowl and Half-step teased him fondly about how bad he had it.

Yeah, that wasn't something Jazz could really argue with.

"Hey," Half-step said about a joor into unpacking. "Jazz. Did you pack this one? Doesn't look like my stuff."

Jazz craned his neck, trying to look over Half-step's shoulder. "Don't think I did. Doesn't look familiar."

"Yeah, it – oh." Half- step had pulled out a datapad in a heavily decorated case with weird symbols on the front. "Oh, yeah. This."

"What is it?"

"Belonged to _my _mentor, that's probably why the box wound up in my room, was still labelled that way. I thought I got rid of all his stuff, though." Half-step walked over and sat down next to Jazz. "He was big into magic. Not the stage stuff, the real kind. Supposed to be anyway. He had a whole bunch of stuff – books, staves, chalices, powdered silver and chalk and salt and all kinds of stuff for sigils and summoning circles. Tried to summon a demon once, Primus only knows why. It didn't work. This book, though, this is what he was really obsessed with. Called it a grimoire, a magic textbook, said it was written in a dead language called Algol."

"What's it say?" Jazz asked, always interested in, well, pretty much everything.

"Buncha stuff that's supposed to be spells, summonings, potions. He could never get any of it to work, said it was in code. Probably it just doesn't work, but you couldn't tell him that. Dude was obsessed. There are pages at the end that're supposed to hold the cipher key, but he couldn't translate that either." Half-step tried to turn the datapad on, but it seemed like the power cell was dead. "Guess I can't show you, but it's there."

"Do you wanna know what it says?" Jazz asked. Half-step was an awesome mentor to Jazz but the older mech's experience with his own mentor…not so much.

Half-step thought for a bit then sighed and closed the case, tracing a fingertip over some of the etched symbols.

"Kind of? Don't even really know why, but…Yeah, I guess." Half-step handed the datapad to Jazz. "I'll let you have a go at it if you want. Just be cool with it if I tell you I don't wanna know after all, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jazz said, as he accepted the datapad. "'Course, 'Step."

"Thanks. And, no matter what happens, thanks for trying."

Jazz charged up the grimoire's power cell and read through. He didn't know from spells, so he couldn't say why they were or weren't working, but the pages at the end were definitely a cipher key of some kind. He could almost see the pattern to it; he just couldn't quite get it.

"Would you like me to look at it?" Prowl offered when Jazz told him about it the next day. "I'm quite good with encryption/decryption algorithms."

They were lying on Prowl's bed, legs intertwined but still mostly hands-off. Jazz leaned over and kissed him.

"You're sweet to put up with all the weird slag I've brought your way," Jazz said fondly. "Yeah, go ahead, babe. I'm kinda curious myself."

Jazz subspaced the now-charged grimoire and let Prowl read through it; the grimoire was so old their data transfer cables couldn't connect to it, and Jazz didn't have an adapter. Prowl just took image captures of the pages he wanted to analyze.

"I'll let that run in a separate processing thread in the background," Prowl said, putting a hand on Jazz's hip. Bluestreak would be home from school in a joor or so, but Chase had left for work two breems ago, and the house was theirs for now. "We can do more interesting things than decryption while we wait for the analysis to complete. If you don't mind…?"

"Nah, babe," Jazz said, pulling Prowl to him. "I don't mind. Background processing threads are fine, I know where most of your mind is."

Prowl split off a processing thread to run the decryption and focused the rest of his processing capability on Jazz. Jazz had discovered the hinges and articulations to Prowl's doors early on, and those dextrous fingers of his worked absolute magic on them. Prowl had only split off one thread: the rest were thoroughly occupied with Jazz's hands, mouth, body, voice. The _sounds_ the mech made…!

They didn't have a lot of time, so they made sure to bring each other to overload quickly. Prowl, straddling Jazz by that point, just slumped over his lover while his systems cooled down.

"Primus, baby, you're amazing," Jazz breathed. He kissed just the bare edge of one of Prowl's data port covers. "Can't tell you're crunching data while you're with me, it's so hot how much power you have. Hope you wanna link up with me sometime. I'd love to feel you in my systems, show you what it feels like when you do this to me. That your kinda thing?"

"I want to," Prowl told him, nuzzling absently against his cheek. "I haven't engaged in network interface before, though."

Jazz knew Prowl hadn't done anything so intimate as tactile interfacing with his previous court-mate. Prowl doubted he'd be surprised by Prowl's words, and he wasn't. He just pressed a kiss to Prowl's shoulder, the nearest part he could reach.

"Okay, babe. When you're ready."

"Perhaps this weekend?" Prowl suggested, a faint hint of charge humming in his lines again. "No creator, no sibling, no interruptions."

"When you're ready," Jazz repeated and smiled. "Though I do like that plan."

"So do I," Prowl told him, and things would have heated up again except an alert popped up on Prowl's HUD. "Ah," he sighed, pulling away regretfully and standing up. "Sibling alert. Bluestreak's due home from school in a breem."

"Mhm." Jazz stretched, an optic-catching, full-bodied motion. "Time to go look like we haven't been up to anything."

"That wouldn't be a problem this weekend," Prowl suggested and got a blinding smile in return.

Prowl wanted to fall back into bed with Jazz for the smile alone, but Bluestreak was due home and Prowl had to be available in case his sibling needed him. Bluestreak probably wouldn't, except in the sense that he might want to spend time with Prowl, but that was their creator's rule.

Bluestreak had asked Prowl to take him to the arcade, which was not a place Prowl was fond of but which he would, on occasion, tolerate to make his sibling happy. Jazz picked up on the fact that this was time Bluestreak wanted to have with just Prowl and excused himself, saying he had to help Half-step finish unpacking and setting up some new equipment.

Bluestreak enjoyed himself immensely at the arcade and Prowl, who had quietly been doing part-time data work remotely to help with home and college expenses, let him play a few more games than were strictly in the budget. Bluestreak was more aware of costs than Prowl had realized because he frowned when Prowl offered to let him stay a little longer.

"But, that's more than Creator usually lets us have for entertainment," he said slowly.

"I've been doing some work, and I have a little extra," Prowl explained. "It's alright."

Bluestreak obviously considered continuing to play and then decided against it.

"No," Bluestreak said finally. "It's okay, Prowl. We can go home and play something there."

Prowl generally approved of any sign of increasing maturity in his sibling, but… "Are you sure? I don't mind staying."

"Yeah," Bluestreak said. "Yeah, I'm sure. Besides, Creator said he'll be home tonight, and we can all have dinner together. Maybe we could make something?"

Prowl smiled. "I'd like that." He put an arm over Bluestreak's shoulders, and they walked out to the street.

The analysis Prowl was running for Jazz finished that evening when he was playing card games with his family. Prowl saved the results but did not examine them yet. The end of the summer still seemed far away, but Prowl knew it would come on quickly, and he wanted to spend time with his family in-person while he still could. Jazz had made an implicit offer to travel to Praxus to see him, but Prowl knew Chase and Bluestreak wouldn't have that freedom. The grimoire was ancient, and Jazz and Half-step had only asked for it to be decrypted out of curiosity. It could wait.

* * *

"I've finished decrypting the pages, and they do give a different meaning to the spells in the rest of the book," Prowl told Jazz the next day. He'd already read through the grimoire as translated with the cipher key. "Quite a bit different in some cases, some far from innocent."

"Ooh, sex magic?" Jazz suggested teasingly. They were in Jazz's living room, grimoire open and online on the low table in front of the couch. Jazz sat next to Prowl, absently rubbing his back.

Prowl shook his head.

"No. The closest such is a spell that claims it can make people fall in love with you if you can't win their affections otherwise, but I think that one might be best to remain lost."

Jazz made a face. "Yeah. I just meant something that would add a bit of spice – y'know, that we'd _both_ be into? That's _way _creepier."

Prowl wanted to say magic wasn't real, but again, ghosts were, and he had empirical evidence for that. He could heavily discount the possibility, of course. He hadn't experienced magic after all. Jazz wasn't wrong about it being creepy, though – and it was certainly immoral if not illegal, though Prowl didn't think modern law addressed the use of magic. Not directly, anyway. Prowl wondered if the use of magic (pending confirmation of the reality of it) would require new statues or fall under existing ones concerning the use of mood-altering substances.

"Made what I said sound creepy, too," Jazz continued, rubbing the back of Prowl's neck the way he already knew the mech liked. "And I'm sorry about that. I'm not gonna try and make you do anything you don't want, Prowler."

"I know," Prowl reassured him. "But no, there is no sex magic, there is only the one alleged love spell, several other spells that will supposedly let you influence or control the mind or emotions of others, personal protection spells, and several methods for both summoning and banishing demons."

"Huh, 'Step said his mentor tried to summon a demon once," Jazz said, peering down at the datapad. "Said he had silver, chalk, salt…stuff like that, which I guess is supposed to help with it."

"Summoning circles and binding runes," Prowl said, adding, "according to this anyway."

"Don't believe in demons, huh, Prowler?" Jazz teased.

"I have empirical evidence for ghosts," Prowl reminded him. "I don't have any for demons. But, neither am I going to attempt to summon one, just in case."

Jazz laughed and flipped the cover closed on the grimoire. "Got better things to do, huh?"

Prowl kissed him. "Yes, much."

Half-step might walk into the living room unannounced – it was a communal room, after all – but Jazz's door locked.

* * *

"So, the old dude was right about the code, huh?" Half-step said when Jazz told him about the translation. "Don't know how I feel about that, kiddo. Don't know if I wanted him to be wrong, or what."

"Want to know what it said?" Jazz offered.

Half-step sighed and stared off into the distance for a while.

"Nah," he said finally. "Maybe someday, but right now, no. I just kind of wanted to know – well. If he'd been working toward something or not, I guess. Got a lot of things to think about, kinda undo, I guess, when it comes to my mentor, y'know?"

"Nope." Jazz didn't feel any kind of tension or resentment over the way Half-step had looked after him. "Got no problems with anything you did, 'Step. You did good."

Half-step smiled. "Thanks, Jazz. Thank Prowl for me, too. Needed to have that done, even if I don't wanna know what it says. Just knowing there was something – yeah. I'll get it sorted out sometime."

Jazz put Half-step's mentor in the same camp as Prowl's ex: if he ever met the guy, he was gonna kick his tail. "Yeah. Speaking of Prowl, I'm gonna spend the weekend over there, just a heads-up."

"Cool." Half-step patted Jazz on the shoulder. "Won't look for you then. Remember: have fun, enjoy yourself, don't catch anything, try not to spark anyone up, including you, and respect your partner."

"Always do remember your advice, 'Step," Jazz promised. "Especially with Prowl."

"Good, 'cause if you ever forget, I'm gonna kick your tail."

* * *

Chase had left for the weekend that morning, affectionately hugging and kissing his creations before he left, but Bluestreak had been there until Trailbreaker, and his creator had picked him up in the afternoon. Jazz was due in the evening. Prowl spent the time between his sibling's departure and his lover's arrival cleaning the house, detailing himself, preparing their dinner, and, for curiosity's sake, rereading the scans he'd taken of the grimoire. By the end, Prowl was reasonably confident that, should he want to, he could summon a demon or, conversely, banish one if needed. Of course, assuming the book represented things that were real, it also claimed that the demons had been locked away by Primus. Accepting for the sake of argument that demons, magic, and Primus were all real, Prowl assumed a mortal's summoning would not overwrite the will of a god.

Grimoires, translations, and demons were shunted completely from Prowl's mind when Jazz arrived that evening.

"Hey, gorgeous," Jazz said and kissed him. "Mentor says 'thanks' for the translation, by the way."

"What did he think of it?" Prowl was not as interested in Half-step's opinion of the grimoire as he was in his plans for himself and Jazz that evening, but he was a little curious.

"Sorry, babe, he didn't want to know what it says, or at least not yet. He's got some baggage about his own mentor." Jazz shrugged. "I don't really get it, but I guess it was just something he needed to do."

"Even if he didn't read it, it's good to know it helped," Prowl said sincerely. But Half-step was not what he wanted to talk about. "Are you ready for fuel? I have energon waiting for us."

"Romantic dinner for two, huh?" Jazz kissed one of Prowl's hands gently. "Yeah, I like that. Soft lights, music, all that?"

"Soft lights, yes," Prowl replied. "I thought I would consult with you on the music." His taste in music and Jazz's were, generally, different enough he hadn't been sure what to choose.

"No problem, Prowler."

Together they managed to come up with something they both enjoyed and then promptly ignored it entirely in favour of paying attention to each other. Prowl didn't even remember to turn it off when he took Jazz's hand and led him upstairs.

"I have the data, of course," Prowl said, holding Jazz's hands as they stood by the bed. "But theory is different from practise; you'll have to guide me."

"'Course I will, Prowler," Jazz promised, and kissed him. "Slow and gentle, give you all the time you need to adjust, get your protocols to clear me through, figure out data transfer, the whole bit. Comes pretty naturally, though. And anything you want to know, just go on and ask me."

"I think I'd rather you show me," Prowl said, and pulled Jazz into his arms, pressing into his lover's knowing hands. This part, making love with Jazz, Prowl knew well already. It was only the networking to come that was still unfamiliar.

Prowl had only ever run a test sequence on his network interface ports. They and the corresponding jacks and cables were still sealed below thin plastics caps that were connected by slender ribs branching from a central spine. It didn't feel like anything when Jazz pulled them free, but Prowl felt the cool air on the components for the first time and said, "oh," quietly in surprise.

"Alright, babe?" Jazz, propped up on one elbow and looking down at him, asked.

"I didn't think they'd be so sensitive," Prowl confessed. "Not to just air."

"They're new." Jazz traced the rim where the cover had spiralled back. "Even still got a little oil on 'em from manufacturing. Love the bronze look – strong, like you."

Prowl slipped a hand between the roof of Jazz's alt and the mech's back, stroked the length of his spinal linkages.

"You may touch, if you want," Prowl murmured.

"Oh, I want." Jazz touched the topmost port, circling and increasing the pressure just slightly on each spiral. "Good?"

Prowl arched slightly into the touch, ran a hand over Jazz's chest. "Yes. May I…?"

"Oh yeah." Jazz kissed him, moving the caresses to a different port, brushing the tip of a finger over the recessed jacks. He transformed his own port covers away. "Do whatever you want, lover, I wanna feel it." He kissed Prowl again. "Primus, these are so slick. I just wanna lick 'em."

Prowl briefly fumbled his touch on Jazz's ports at the thought. "Do-do that, yes. Please."

Jazz didn't go straight for the ports. He kissed Prowl's mouth and worked his way down, moving over Prowl's jaw, his throat, across smooth chest plates, breathed gently on Prowl's hardware. Prowl's hand tightened on Jazz's back, and he moaned as Jazz's tongue dragged, ever so lightly, over his jacks. Prowl cried out again when it dipped into his ports, delicately exploring.

"Love the way you sound," Jazz said, between licks and kisses. "Prowl, baby, can you unspool my jacks? Run my cables between your fingers? Feels so good." Jazz shivered when Prowl slowly, carefully, drew his jacks out one by one. "Like that, yeah. Primus, love it when you touch me!"

"So smooth," Prowl murmured, sliding his fingers along the cables just like Jazz wanted, feeling the silky polymer, the warm metal of the jacks. He could imagine them sliding into him, locking into place, the data beginning to flow between them.

Jazz groaned and buried his face in Prowl's throat. "Babe…Prowl…"

"Touch my cables," Prowl urged. "Show me how it feels."

"Yeah," Jazz murmured, pushing himself up far enough he could reach Prowl's jacks, arching so he could press their forehelms together. "Cables are a little stiff," he warned as he started to unspool Prowl's. "Tell me if I have to slow down."

"I trust you." Prowl kissed him while he drew out the first of the slender cords, mouth slanting sweetly over Jazz's. "I – oh!"

Jazz had one of Prowl's cables out between thumb and forefinger, had run the length between them.

"You're beautiful," Jazz breathed, drawing out the second one and caressing it the same way, making Prowl moan for him again. "My Prowler."

"Jazz, yes…" Prowl clutched his lover closer. "Oh, oh, that’s…_oh_! Jazz!"

Jazz threaded the cables between his fingers, stroked down the lengths of all three at the same time. He kissed the jacks, reverently, and Prowl bucked under him.

"Please," Prowl gasped. "Please, I want – I want you in me, want you to connect with me!"

"Oh, Primus, yes!" Jazz kissed him eagerly. "Gonna jack you into me first, okay? So I can feel you, make sure you're doing alright."

"Yes," Prowl said with certainty. "Oh, yes."

"Okay." Jazz shifted a little bit to make it easier to connect, moving the arm he was braced on so he could cradle Prowl's head in his hand. "One coupler at a time, alright? You'll feel me on the other side but don't negotiate network permissions just yet."

Prowl agreed and observed Jazz plug Prowl's jacks into his own ports. Prowl _could _feel Jazz's presence, even without an active network between them.

"Jazz," he breathed. "You're right there!"

"Yeah, baby," Jazz murmured. "Yeah, I'm right here. I can feel you, too, Prowl, lover. Just a klik or so more, sweetspark."

Prowl waited eagerly while Jazz jacked into him, ignoring the prompts popping up on his HUD from his permissions suite.

"All good so far, lover?" Jazz asked. He stroked Prowl's cheek. "You feel like you're okay, just want to be sure."

"Oh yes," Prowl told him, circling the rims of Jazz's headlights with his fingers. "_Yes_. Keep going!"

Jazz did, sending a connection request. Prowl accepted and negotiated permissions easily, allowing Jazz into his systems and –

"_Jazz!_" Prowl said in a low voice, gripping his lover's arms.

"Yeah." Jazz, braced above him, shivered. "Yeah, I can feel you, too, Prowl. Oh, damn, you're – gonna show you."

Prowl accepted and unpacked the data Jazz sent him and _another mech's _sensory data flowed through his systems, immediately translating from Jazz's pleasure into his own.

"Jazz!"

"Can you send some back?" Jazz requested softly. "Just pack it up and send it, don't worry about making it perfect. Just want to know what you – oh, _Primus, _you are fast!"

"Too fast?"

"No," Jazz assured him, pulsing more tactile data back at him. "No, keep going. Love your power, your speed. Love the _feel _of you."

"Jazz," Prowl said again and pulled his lover down for a kiss, pouring the sensation of that across their connection. Jazz moaned into his mouth, responded in the kiss and through their connection, the link lighting up with passion.

"Sweetspark," Jazz breathed. "Oh, sweetspark, Prowl. _Gorgeous_."

Prowl caught him in a kiss again, wanting more, pushing the pure data of everything, every single thing, emotional and physical, that he was feeling over the hardline. Jazz caught it, amped it up with his own sensual pleasure and his _desire _for Prowl and sent it back, overloads building as it all looped around between them.

'_Oh, Prowl, babe,_' Jazz moaned over a private comm, sounding almost overcharged, when they began to get close. '_Prowl, Prowler, go on, let yourself go, wanna see you – just _so beautiful _when you come!"_

_'Jazz…Jazz!' _Prowl was almost there, almost… "Oh – just…please, I – _Yes!"_

Prowl overloaded, vision whiting out, charge singing through his lines and static snapping between them. He was just starting to come down when _Jazz _overloaded, and _that _came across the open network, taking Prowl over the edge again, over and over until his charge was exhausted. Jazz, also spent, collapsed next to him on the bed with a groan.

"Always so good with you," Jazz mumbled, tugging Prowl in for a cuddle. Prowl pressed his cheek against Jazz's chest and hummed happily in agreement. "Feeling okay? Nothing actually got blown?"

Well, there was nothing on his HUD, at least. Prowl shook his head, kissed Jazz's chest plates.

"No. Although," he added, "I still have three more sets of data ports to test."

Jazz chuckled. "Think I can help you out with that."

"Mmm." Prowl made an effort to snuggle even closer to Jazz. "Good."

Jazz tightened his embrace just a little, nuzzling against Prowl's helm. "Yeah. But for now – for now, this is good."

"Yes," Prowl agreed, letting his optics shut off. Here, he didn't have to think about ghosts, witchcraft, or the end of the summer. Here, with Jazz, he could just be content. "It is."

**Author's Note:**

> The method given for countering the bad luck of saying the play's name is really the method that's supposed to undo the bad luck of saying the name _Macbeth_ instead of 'the Scottish play.' Guess how I learned this? While normally I agree with Prowl over such things, when you get ushered outside by your coworkers in the middle of winter without a coat, if countering a curse is what gets you back inside, you're going to counter the curse.
> 
> Algol is an early and influential [family of programming languages](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ALGOL) first developed in the 1950s.


End file.
